He entered the kitchen to find Shana pouring a glass of tequila for herself. Looked like they were going to have to hit a second bottle. That would have to do. No way he’d go for a third bottle in the basement if they finished that one. Not because he was a stingy host, but because he didn’t want to give a couple of Secret Service agents any clue about him having a stash of anything in the basement. There was a whole shitload of bigger and better things than tequila down there and he did not want them knowing about it, not even suspecting it.

Andrews watched Shana raise the glass to her lips to take a moderate sip. She was going all out for her badass role. Andrews finally tore his eyes away to speak to Dane.

“You talked to your friend, the Governor? We’re all set here?”

Dane nodded.

“I take it that old phone in your office is a secure line.”

Dane slashed a look at Shana. She didn’t flinch, but he knew she’d mentioned the phone. He supposed that was the least of their concerns. If he could claim that was the extent of their special equipment, that would work for him. He absolutely did not want them finding out about their house being wired.

Goodley spoke up then.

“Is it true what I hear about your house being wired to shock intruders?”

“What the hell are you talking about? We’re private investigators, not the CIA.”

Andrews laughed.

“It’s okay, Dane. We already have a file on you and your house. Have it on good authority—the FBI in fact—that the house is wired up like a giant electric fence.”

Dane took the bottle from Shana and drank the last shot.

“It’s time you boys read us in on the details of what you have going on.”

“Right after we get our stuff out of the car. We want to be all moved in before anything gets official.”

“You mean before anyone sees you.”

“We’re officially your pals from college.”

“Not exactly the right ages for that.”

“Okay, then we’re your pals from the army. Will that work for you?”

Dane shrugged. “Kind of the same thing seeing as I went to West Point.”

Goodley snorted. “That’s right. They must have been scraping the bottom of the barrel back in the day.”

Dane didn’t rise to the bait, but he didn’t have to. Shana did. Her tolerance for people treating him disrespectfully had shrunk to zero since they’d become betrothed.

“Where did you go to college, Mr. Dudley?”

“That’s Goodley. I went to Yale.” He smiled big like it meant something.

“Oh? I can’t imagine how you ended up in the Secret Service with a Yale education.”

“Enough of this juvenile crap,” Andrews said. “Let’s get our things.”

“You’re not really going to move in here, are you?” Shana said.

“Yes.” Andrews walked out the door with Goodley on his heels.

Shana turned to Dane. “That’s just great. Where are we going to stay? The island is booked solid. Sassy Stephens and Ronnie Ryan are living at the Pie Shop for two weeks while they Airbnb their apartment for a couple of thousand.” She thought for a beat and Dane recognized the avaricious gleam in her eye.

“Do you suppose the Secret Service is prepared to pay us for room and board? Ike and Mike must have an expense budget.”

“Don’t count on it.”

Dane had no intention of leaving his home with two Secret Service agents free to roam about. He had too many secrets. Not to mention he wanted a stake in this one. He knew they’d been told to enlist his help and the only way to gain any control was to play hard to get.

Andrews came back inside carrying two duffels and a black bag that looked like an oversize doctor’s bag. Dane recognized it as a tech kit. It was probably filled with all kinds of electronic goodies.

“We were told you had an extra bedroom.”

Dane stone-faced them and Shana threw her hands on her hips.

“Why the hell do you need to stay here?”

“We don’t want to cast any suspicion. We’re going to use you as—”

Dane put up a hand. “Stop right there.” The Governor had said to cooperate, but he hadn’t said how and Dane was fairly certain he’d allow him to use discretion. Dane always considered the term “use you” to be a flaming red flag in any plan he didn’t concoct himself.

“You don’t tell us to stop. Who the hell do you think you are?” Goodley took a step forward, which brought him closer to Shana. She didn’t back away, but instead drew herself up to tower over the man who was merely average height. In her heels, Shana was six foot two. Eye-to-eye with Dane. He liked it, but not too many men had the same appreciation for female power as he did. Probably because they had trouble controlling it. But hell, that was half the fun.

“I thought you knew who I was. I’m the guy you’re counting on to do you a favor. The guy with a certain background. And equipment.”

“We don’t technically need your permission.”

“That’s not what the Governor told me.”

“Calm down, Thaddeus,” Agent Andrews put a hand on his partner’s shoulder. They were playing the same good cop, bad cop game.

“No, let him get it out of his system,” Dane said. “He has a chip. I get it. He doesn’t like me because I’m a mercenary.”

Shana shot him a look, and her scowl deepened when she aimed it back at Thaddeus.

“How un-American of Thaddeus to be disdainful of capital enterprise,” she spoke in her full Aussie accent.

“Are you even a citizen?”

“Yes, I’m a citizen of Australia. Why? You plan to have me deported?” She took a step closer.

“That’s enough. This bullshit is getting us nowhere,” Andrews said. “We need to comb the island and set up shop ahead of the full contingent of agents. The President will not be told he needs to postpone his trip here because the Secret Service didn’t do its job.” Andrews eyed Dane and took a breath. “I’ll take that shot of tequila.”

Inside his head, Dane raised his brows. This guy was going above and beyond the usual good-cop role.

“Coming right up.” Dane turned and opened the freezer door to retrieve the second bottle of Patron Silver. Shana broke her yard-dog stance to retrieve some glasses from the cabinet, brushing past the two agents close enough for their pupils to dilate with pleasure.

He put the bottle on the counter of the kitchen peninsula. He wasn’t offering anyone a seat or to come inside and sit at his dining room table. This was the negotiation for entry.

As soon as Dane filled the six-ounce juice glasses that Shana had plunked down on the counter, Andrews picked one up, gave them a salute with it, then downed it.

Dane refilled it and waited for him to speak—once the man’s eyes stopped watering. There was something important afoot and this guy was concerned. His partner was edgy, one hand on his glass and eyeing Andrews. Dane stood for a few beats, watching Andrews’s eyes clear and intensify before he spoke.

“Time to read us in, Andrews.”

The man nodded.

“There’s been a verifiable threat that an attempt will be made on the President’s life while he’s on the island.”

“Who?”

He shook his head. “An ISIS cell was activated. Someone Homeland Security was watching.”

“Is the cell here now?”

Andrews shook his head again. Thaddeus picked up his glass and downed half the tequila in it.

“We don’t know,” Andrews said.

Shana asked, “Why didn’t the President cancel his trip?”

“Because he’s a stubborn SOB,” Thaddeus spoke up in a hoarse voice. He obviously wasn’t used to the good stuff. Or maybe he wasn’t used to downing shots of anything.

Andrews looked around now. “You’re sure this place is secure?”

Dane nodded. He had questions. His first one was why were two Secret Service agents so rattled about a terrorist assassination threat? It was their job to deal with this shit, wasn’t it? His mind spun the arithmetic to figure why one and one were not adding up to two when it came to him.

“An attempt was already made,” Dane said.

Andrews snapped his eyes at him, then turned stone-faced. Thaddeus Goodley smiled.

“Your reputation is well deserved, I see”

Shana snorted. “What’s the story?”

“It wasn’t exactly an attempt. More like a scare. Photos were taken of the First Lady that seemed impossible for an outsider to be able to take. They were sent to the President with demands and the threat of more trouble.”

“NSA doubled down on finding out what was going on and they found chatter from a cell in Massachusetts about a plan to attack on Martha’s Vineyard on the Fourth of July.”

“You’re sure these are related?”

“Hell yeah.” Thaddeus brought his glass to his lips again and, after a deep breath, drank the rest down. Andrews left his refill untouched.

“Now you need to locate the cell members and stop them.” Dane’s blood was on the move, flowing fast and picking up speed. He could feel it circulating round and round his system, pumping him up, distributing vast amounts of adrenaline to every cell in his body until he could feel it seeping from his pores.

Andrews nodded.

“And you need to keep a lid on this. I shouldn’t have to tell you this is top secret clearance, strictly need to know. That goes for every single last word I’m telling you. You may not disclose a single syllable. To anyone. That includes your friend Captain Colin Lynch.”

“And your so-called friend the Governor.” Goodley accompanied his comment with his signature snide twist of his mouth.

“We’ll disclose any information that needs disclosing, when we see fit.” Andrews spoke in a firm serious voice. The tequila had taken the edge off his voice.

“You mean when your bosses tell you.”

Andrews smiled. “Then we have an understanding.”

“We do.” Dane gave him a truce-smile back. It was the kind of smile that was halfway between sincere and sarcastic, as if he were crossing his fingers behind his back. He had the feeling Andrews knew that.

The issue was what would he do about it? Dane would find out sooner or later—hopefully later—and hopefully without dragging Shana into the mess. He needed to do his best to keep her clear of their ire. She needed to start playing the good cop.

Dane took a step closer to her.

“Time to go for that appointment at the church, sweetheart.”

Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly, but she covered her amusement and went along.

“That’s right. Father Donahue is a stickler for timeliness.”

She grabbed her bag from the dining room chair where she’d hung it. He could tell by the way she slung it on her shoulder that it held her Glock. That was good because his was in the kitchen drawer and there was no way he was going to shove past Goodley to take his gun out of the drawer to go visit a priest at a church.

He put an arm around Shana and led her through the back door out into the fresh ocean breeze. He took a deep breath and then spoke quietly before he got inside the Jeep.

“We’re going to see Cap, but we can’t talk and we’ll need to be sneaky.”

“They’re going to follow us?” She looked happy, like this was the most fun she’d had in a while. He supposed it was.

“It won’t be so much fun if we get caught.”

“We won’t,” she said and got inside the car.